Numb Euphoria
by gliiterink
Summary: Choices. They shape people. They make them who they are. Not everything is black and white. No one is purely good or purely evil. It's a game of blood, tears, pain, love, desire and rebellion. In the end, there can only be one winner and one ultimate choice that can condemn them all.
1. Prologue

_Hello, readers. Thank you for taking the time to read my story. It's my first fanfic and do forgive me if I make errors. Constructive feedback would be appreciated. Thank you once again :) _

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Prologue

"Your mother. She was many things. You could write a novel series about her and it would still not bring justice to the legend she was and the legacy she left behind," Harry Potter told his eight year old godson.

It was story time and the little boy sat on his lap on a cold winter's evening. Somewhere in the kitchen, they could hear Aunty Ginny hustling about, preparing dinner. The Potter children were upstairs playing in the nursery with the Weasleys.

Adrian closed his eyes, he yearned to meet his mother someday but he knew that was a fantasy. A childhood fantasy that would most likely carry on until he dies. He wanted so badly to remember his mom. He saw her pictures in biographies, documentaries, posters, everywhere. But they meant nothing to him. He wanted to see her flesh and blood before his very own eyes. He wanted to see a piece of him that was never alive.

"Yes, Hermione Malfoy was truly one of a kind. Since the day she was born until her last breath, she was a legend in her own unique ways."


	2. Broken

Enjoy! :)

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He saw her. Her blood. Her wounded body. Her tormented soul. Everything. He saw them all. In that moment, he did not see a former school enemy but a broken woman beyond grief. She lied on the merciless cold floor of the manor like a rag doll. Her curls were in disarray, clothes were torn and coated with blood. Yes, the view was horrific and was worthy of being an opponent of one's greatest nightmare. However, nothing could match the degrading and dirty word imprinted on Hermione Granger's left arm, "MUDBLOOD".

The Malfoy heir shut his eyes. This was not supposed to happen. Yes, he hated her with a seething rage. Oh, how much he had hated the smirk that had shaped her lips when she scored higher marks and grades than him. Back in those days, it took all his might and control to not send curses towards her. But those times have changed.

The war made him a man. He needed to focus on other things rather than hating on the Granger mudblood. He had a family to protect, a family name to uphold, a demanding dark lord to please, a duty as a Deatheater.

Yet, as he stood there staring at the fallen Gryfindor, his conscience gnawed at him, finding loopholes in his pureblood ideals. She did not deserve this. Not to this extent. He carefully eyed his aunt Bella who was currently interrogating the goblin.

She moved around in a strange, hypnotic yet alluring way. It was as if she was swaying her body to the dance of Death. She was the embodiment of chaos and evil. Her eyes gleamed with certain madness. She enjoyed this. Oh, how she savored and relished in all the bloodshed. She was the Shadow Lady.

Always there, lurking, waiting for something to trigger violence. She also had another asset. Her sinful beauty. It made wives hold tight to their husbands. It made men weak, they would fall for her helplessly and bang their head against the wall at the same time in anger that they had allowed themselves to lust for her.

Narcissa wrapped a loving arm around her son and shot him a glance. Her eyes pooled with worry, seeing that Draco was fidgeting. She held a perfectly manicured hand to his face and stroked his cheek, whispering soothing words to her only child. Though born a Black and married to a Malfoy, she did not posses and portray the darkness that ran in the families.

However, that did not mean that she had never looked down upon her inferiors. Indeed, she held a pureblood supremacy belief and she carried it out daily. She was what people would describe as arrogant, cold, mean, calculative and spiteful. True, she had those characteristics but despite all that she was not diabolical. Most would agree that she was the better of the two evils.

Narcissa had a certain beauty of her own that commanded the attention of anyone in the same room as hers. She was beautiful in a regal, classic and elegant way. She held better control of her emotions unlike her sister. Where her sister was rash and temperamental, she was cool and collected. A trait that was possibly developed due to her marriage to a Malfoy.

It was not in a Black's nature to be calm and tolerant. Her eyes slid over to the third member of the Golden Trio. She couldn't suppress the sympathy that swelled inside her. No matter how dirty the Granger's blood was, she was still only a kid. A kid that was dragged into a war just like her son. Bellatrix failed to see that as she was blinded by her destructive love for the Dark Lord.

The next few moments were a blur. The next thing the purebloods knew, Potter and Weasley had escaped the cellar and were sending spells their way. Maternal instincts took over Narcissa and she immediately shoved Draco behind her, bearing her body as a shield. She did not hesitate in sending defensive spells to the Gryfindors, better they die than her own child.

Throughout the fight, Hermione felt a terrible throbbing in her head. Her body felt wrecked and her muscles were strained. The blood loss made her dizzy and she had to suppress the urge to vomit. She was physically and emotionally drained. She could not make sense of anything, the last pronounced thing she saw was Bellatrix's cruel twisted face as she tortured the life out of her. She remained frozen on the ground, the pain seized her body, making her paralysed.

Now, she understood the torment Neville's parents went through. She understood why sanity had abandoned them, she was close to losing hers. She felt her life seeping through her fingers, darkness cornered her vision.

She heard a soft "pop". Beside her, appeared Harry's elf friend, Dobby. He signaled a finger to his lips for her to be silent. Not that she could even utter a single letter. He shuffled closer to her and gently took her hand in his. In a split second, they were gone.

Unbeknownst to them, the Malfoy heir saw everything. He didn't do anything to stop them. He didn't alert his family. He did nothing but watch.

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~~~Shell's Cottage~~~

Fleur anxiously paced around. She had already attended to Ollivander's and Luna's health. Thank goodness none of their injuries were fatal. Though Ollivander was in a worse state than Luna. She bustled around her house, knocking into furniture in the process. She was going to have to take the role of nurse until the war was over. _If it will ever end_.

Her hands trembled violently at the thought of a lifetime of war. When will it end? Will her children and grandchildren have to live through it? She let out a sob and soon tears came out of nowhere.

That private moment was shattered when Dobby appeared with a bloodied body right in front of her.

"Bill!" she shrieked.

Smacking the tears away, she hastily approached the pair. She gave Dobby a brief grateful smart before he apparated once more.

For a while, Fleur was left alone with the heavily injured unconscious girl. She bit her lips and pinched herself to prevent from fainting. For minutes that seemed to stretch into hours, she stared at the gory sight before her.

Hermione Granger, the brilliant, smart, brave and beautiful Gryfindor had been reduced to this atrocious and derogative state. Fleur's mind was empty. Being dragged into war when she had just been wedded to the love of her life was unspeakable. Having to fret and suffer sleepless nights in fear of losing her loved ones was nerve-wrecking. Having a fallen, bloodied warrior -who was one of their heroes- land right in front of her really broke Fleur's emotional barrier.

"Bill…" she managed to croak out.

In heaven's name, what's taking him so long? Heavy footsteps sounded behind her and she immediately flung herself into her husband's arms.

"Darling…Hermione…she's…I…I..." she stuttered.

Bill soothed his traumatised wife before telling her to rest while he focused on the problem at hand. The sight of Hermione made him cringe but he willed himself to move. Her life was ticking away, he had to be fast.

He carried his youngest's brother's best friend to the sofa in the living room. There, Fleur had placed and piled all the healing potions in order on a table. With a deep breath, he started working on healing one of their only hopes left. He could not fail. The wizarding world needed her.


End file.
